


Come Here Often?

by brilliantengineer



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:13:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7649476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilliantengineer/pseuds/brilliantengineer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small and growing collective of little Holtzbert one-shots to make us all feel warm and fuzzy inside. (Previously titled Holtzbert Mini Fluffs)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Holtzmann Equation

“What’s that?” the little boy asks, pointing at the canister hissing in her hands.

“Blowtorch, little buddy, wanna try?” Holtzy says through the screwdriver between her teeth and offers the thing to the kid who’s face lights up. Erin stops mid-sentence, hurdles almost seven obstacles to push Holtzmann’s arm out of the kid’s reach and almost sets her bangs on fire. Holtzmann shrugs and returns to her project.

“Okay, helper time is over, back to your group,” Erin says in a too-cheerful voice, pushing the kid back in the direction of the tour group Patty is leading today. Under her breath when the kids are out of earshot, Erin says “He’s eight, please don’t set him on fire.”

“Why not?” she asks. “Builds character.” She’s joking. But Erin, too practical for her own good, will not stop there.

“I think his parents would disagree.”

“You had a very boring childhood, didn’t you Gilbert?” she asks. “AHA! Got it.” Holtzmann turns off the blowtorch, sets the screwdriver aside, and proceeds to blow on and fan the portion she was working on. “Alright Buster juniors! What do you say we take this puppy up to the roof and take it for a spin?”

There is a chorus of cheering from the tour group as Holtzmann makes her way through the sea of children toward the spiral staircase, mocking a crowd surf the whole way. Erin grabs Patty’s arm “Please keep them away from the edge, I don’t care what she says–”

“It’s cool, I got this,” Patty pats Erin’s hand and follows after the children who are lined up to follow Holtzmann as she dances upward, singing “Final Countdown” by Europe.

Eventually, Abby and Erin are standing alone in the lab, watching the last kid’s feet disappear from view. Abby leans into Erin with a subtle nudge.

“What?” Erin asks. Abby gives her a look. ”I just want them to be safe.”

“The kids? Or Holtzmann?” 

“…Yes.” Erin answers, but she doesn’t turn to see the beaming smile on Abby’s face–the one she saw in tenth grade when Erin had a crush on Michael Schwartz just before Abby teased her relentlessly for it. Instead, she turns back to her whiteboard, brows furrowed as she puzzles over the equation on the board. Particle physics is easier than explaining a feeling.

One like this, anyway.

Later, in the lobby, Jillian and Abby are answering questions. Jillian answers each one with attentive responses, but all of Abby’s are sarcastic. The kids take turns trying on proton packs and Erin watches as Holtzmann singles out the tiniest kid in the class to go first. Abby disclaims that the packs are off and not charged for safety reasons and winks at Erin. The kid, caught off-guard by the weight of the pack, falls backward. Her giggles bounce off the tile walls and make Holtzmann laugh too before she extends a hand and picks the child up from the floor, assisting another one the same as the first. 

The devil’s in the details, like it always is, because Erin carefully observes the same phenomenon she’s seen on each and every tour–Jillian always picks the littler ones first. Erin suspects Jillian might have, at one point, been one of them too. It’s an idea that always makes her smile. A little Holtzmann running around with a toolbox, fixing wagons and bikes and taking computers apart for the simple joy of seeing what’s inside. This final leg of the tour is Erin’s favorite part, because she can see the sparkle in Jillian’s eyes like looking back at her own younger self.

“You tell her you like her yet?” Patty asks.

Erin looks like she’s been struck. “I– Wha-? I…can. Um.”

“You’re in a twist about it in your head, but it’s cool. Just don’t overthink it. She likes you a lot, even if you do ride her about safety stuff sometimes.”

Erin looks back at Holtzmann across the room, purses her lips and nods only once. Someday she’ll work up to the kind of candor the object of her recent affections possesses. That day is not today, but soon–soon, Erin thinks, she’ll have the words to describe what it is she feels. Today is for equations, she decides, where she will calculate catastrophes and feelings and all of the things she can’t put words to. When the time is right, she thinks, the words will have been the correct proof to the Holtzmann Equation she’s been trying to solve for months.


	2. Wish You Were Here

Erin picks through the laundry, separating lights, darks, and colors from each other and into separate baskets. She’s seen Abby and Holtzmann shove entire loads into the washer without separating and it makes her cringe every time. She stacks the baskets on top of each other and carries them to the washer, changing things over, putting new things in, and stopping to fold the warm articles that have come from the dryer.

She stops on an army green top–cropped, with sleeves–and notices the feeling of the fabric in her fingertips. It’s soft and buttery cotton, and she can’t help bringing it to her nose. Even after a wash, she thinks, it still smells like Holtzmann. The sulfur smell of a striking match, coppery like a newly minted penny, and an undercurrent of green tea. She thinks, no other person in the world smells like this, with a smile.

Across the room her phone rings. Erin temporarily abandons the laundry basket and goes to retrieve it, noticing as she closes the distance that it’s Holtzmann. Her finger swipes the screen to answer the call and she’s greeted immediately with a loud “HEY!”

“Hi!” she can’t keep the brightness out of her voice. “How was Syracuse?” Patty, Abby, and Holtzmann have been gone for a week. Erin has come to realize in their absence that home isn’t home without the four of them together.

“Oh, it was great, Erin you should’ve been there,” she can hear Abby yelling to be heard. “How was the symposium?”

“Probably not nearly as fun as what you guys have been up to,” the smile on Erin’s face fades a little. “Nobody likes particle physics unless they’re going for their Ph.D.”

“Except you,” Holtzmann says. There’s a cheerful lilt in her voice that makes Erin smile a little again, followed by Abby shouting “NERD!” at the top of her lungs.

“I wish you guys were home already. When are you coming back?”

“Hmmm? What, oh Erin, hold on one second, I think we missed a turn.”

The conversation becomes garbled for a few minutes. Erin hears something downstairs. “Kevin, can you get that please?” She asks, calling down the stairs. She puts the phone back up to her ear. “Are you guys still there?”

“Yeah, yeah. Hold on, one minute.”

More noise from downstairs. Erin heaves an annoyed breath and treks down the first few, ready to curse Kevin’s name for his incompetence. “Kevin, how many times have I said–”

In the doorway of the firehouse stands a plucky looking blonde in smudged coveralls and oversized boots, sporting yellow tinted glasses, a beaming smile, and a silver duffel bag.

Erin squeaks with delight and hurries down the rest of the steps like a kid on Christmas morning. Holtz drops her bag and runs toward her too, and they both throw their arms around each other before Patty and Abby join the scene. 

“You jerks!” Erin laughs, group-hugging everyone within arm’s reach. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back tonight?”

“Oh, yeah we thought about it,” Abby nods, “and then Holtzmann here thought it’d be more fun if we staged a break-in or something.”

“And I told both of them you’d lock ‘em out tonight if they did.” Patty chimes in.

“You’re right, I probably would have.” Erin says, knowing she wouldn’t. She realizes then that her arm is still wrapped around Holtzmann.

“Food?” Patty asks.

Abby and Holtzmann nod to each other, “PIZZA!”

So they order food, take it to the roof, and watch as buildings light up one by one. Eventually, Abby and Patty head downstairs to unpack the rest of the gear. Holtz and Erin sit alone, picking at pizza toppings.

“Truth or dare, Erin.”

“Truth,” Erin always picks truth. It’s mostly easy and unembarrassing.

“You missed us, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I mean…obviously. You guys are my best friends. We’re like, family.”

“I missed you,” Holtzmann says quietly.

“Really?” there’s a glimmer of hope in Erin’s voice that she tries to tamp down.

“’Course. Not the same when we’re not all together. Plus I missed your cute tiny bow ties.” She reaches across the table to finger the one on Erin’s collar. “Tiny little bow tie.” She repeats with a smile. Her eyes meet Erin’s and her lips turn up into a crooked smile.

Erin taps her fingernails on the table. Seized by impulse, she leans over and gives Holtz a kiss on the cheek, turning both of them red.

“Hey. Holtzy. You got the PKE meter in your bag?” Patty says, poking her head out from the door.

“Ah, yeah,” she clears her throat. “I’m comin’. I’ll be right there.” She’s on her feet as Patty heads back inside, but Holtzmann hesitates. “I uh. I like you a lot,” she says. They are silent for a moment before Holtzmann takes Erin and presses her lips against hers. It’s a simple kiss, but it makes them both lightheaded. Holtzmann pulls away first, takes a deep breath and all but runs inside.

Erin, left with her heart full and fluttering, remembers what it felt like just an hour and a half ago to be embraced and squeezed so tightly. She wants to find Holtzmann later when it’s quiet. She wants to tell her not to leave her behind again. She wants to tell her how many times in the last week she thought “I wish you were here.” 

She picks up the pizza boxes and plates and takes one last look out at New York City, thinking what a magical place it really is and how lucky she is to have found friends and love in it.


	3. The Gilbert Variation

She watches the metal fuse together under the welding torch in one hand and sips at a soda with a bitten-up straw in the other. She likes the idea that two pieces can become one when the fire between them is hot enough--likes the idea of completeness achieved by the meeting of two parts of a whole. Jillian Holtzmann has always considered things down to their smallest parts with the insatiable need to know what it's made of and how it works. From a distance, she has observed Erin Gilbert in much the same way as the inside of a computer in her Uncle's shop when she was seven years old.

Erin, she thinks, is a circuit board with uniformity in gold and green components, but each piece of her performs differently. She reminds Holtzmann of a well-groomed transmission under the hood of a car--complex and fickle, but unwaveringly reliable. Holtzmann also knows that Erin would not think of herself like this; Erin would label herself a carnation, peter pan collar sweaters, cats, and whatever else the average woman labels herself according to women's magazines. Holtzmann can't help the way her mind works. She will always see Erin as a backbone, a piece everyone relies on and couldn't do without.

"Holtzmann."

She tests the bond fused between one length of pipe and the other and moves onto the next fragment. She considers how the four of them are parts of an efficiently working mechanism, each bringing her own skill set to the table. Separately, Holtzmann knows they are brilliant women. Collectively, she knows, they are unstoppable. Stronger together than apart, she thinks, as she bonds two more pieces of her newest weapon in their arsenal together.

"Holtzmann?"

The cogs, wheels, and gears in her brain never stop turning. She has never been the type of person who can sleep restfully, because there's always something cooking in her head. She thinks briefly on the schematics of her current project, like a tab open on the web browser in her brain, and then switches back to Erin.

"Holtzmann!"

Holtz's attention jerks upward. She pushes the welding hood up on top of her head, blinking and realizing how itchy an tired her eyes have become. She fixes her yellow tinted glasses back onto the bridge of her nose and looks at Erin standing in front of her. "What time is it?" 

"Eight a.m. Were you up all night?"

"No...t on purpose."

"Alright, come on. Welding torches off, you can come back later." Erin walks around the table and rests a hand on her arm.

"You're right, coffee first." Holtzmann notices herself becoming more and more tired. She turns the torch off and flops her helmet to the side, joining Erin on the sofa a short distance away.

"You really need to be getting more sleep, it's not good for your brain."

"Is it gonna turn my brain into ectoplasm? Hey, remember that time a ghost ectoprojected-"

"Yep. Yep, I remember that. Because I was there."

"I know, I know, but I keep thinking about it because we were all so excited and you and Abby were like, bawling. Meanwhile I'm over in the corner like 'The hell? Ghosts are real!' But your face did the thing it does when you get excited." She rambles, sleepy with her words running together and her head on Erin's shoulder. "Your smile could outshine the sun." Her eyes begin to droop, but her hand sinks into Erin's.

"Thank you," Erin says. Holtz can hear the smile in her voice and it makes her smile too.

"Erin?" Holtzmann asks with the kind of gentleness of a little kid.

"Yeah?"

"If I rest my eyes for a minute, will you promise to stay here and keep a lookout for the ghosts under the sofa?" She keeps composure for a second, but launches into a fit of delirious giggles. "Nah, I'm good. It's good. I can take 'em." She drifts off on Erin's shoulder with the vague memory of having the sofa blanket wrapped around her. The last thought she has before she falls deeply asleep is that they are still holding hands. Two halves fused together to make a whole.


	4. Dressed to Impress

“Other heel, other heel...” Erin searches, looking under the bedskirt and in piles of laundry, for another shoe to match the one in her hand. Her blazer hangs freshly pressed on the door of the wardrobe. Her blouse is not yet tucked in, and her hair needs to be combed again.

“Never understood why women wear heels. Except for maybe the aesthetics, I guess. They’re not very practical.” Holtzmann leans against the threshold, her shirt and vest unbuttoned and no pants to speak of. Her legs bear the scars of welding mishaps and other little nicks that Erin has counted in quiet hours while her legs are tangled in the bedsheets.

“Because they look professional,” Erin disputes, looking up and turning three shades of pink when she notices Holtzmann’s lack of clothing. “Go finish getting dressed, we’re going to be late. And...that shirt. There’s a stain on it?”

Holtzmann lets out a light laugh with no trace of mockery. “Erin, we’re the  _Ghostbusters._  I don’t know what the dress code is at Columbia, but it’s not practical for saving the city.”

Erin stops. “Okay. We’re going to make a deal. I’m going to dress you with clothes that I think are professional for receiving a key to the city this time and next time you get to pick something of yours for me.”

"Eeeeeeyeah, no. No. We should definitely not do that.” Holtzmann begins to look like a cat on its way to the bathtub as Erin goes to the wardrobe.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! Here, try this on, the color would look really great on you.” She holds out a shirt the color of pepto bismol that makes Holtzmann’s eyes practically pop out of her head.

“No. No. Nope. No.” Holtzmann shakes her head. 

“Will you at least...try it on?” Erin asks, stepping close enough to play with the hem of Holtz’s unbuttoned shirt. Her blue eyes look like an emotionally manipulative kitten’s.

“ABBY?” she shouts, backing into a corner.

“You’re overreacting, it’s just a shirt.”

“It’s going to feel like Satan is tonguing my armpits.”

“What’s going on? Hey--did you forget to put on pants again? Because I don’t think the mayor gives keys to the city to people who forget to wear pants to the ceremony,” Abby stands in the doorway, hands on her hips.

Holtzmann ducks out into the hallway, peeking over Abby’s shoulder. “She wants me to wear the clothes of her people. I think she’s possessed.”

Patty can be heard down the hall coming their direction. “Holtzy, did you forget your pants again? What’s goin’ on?”

Abby, giggling turns to Patty. “Erin is attempting to dress our dear Dr. Holtzmann.”

“I was just offering to help make her look a bit more...professional. First impressions are important.”

“We already saved the city, first impression: made.” Holtzmann argues.

Abby looks Holtz up and down contemplatively. "You, pants. Erin...is that what you're wearing?" Without hesitation, Holtzmann takes off down the hall at lightning speed like her lab is on fire while Abby and Patty stare at Erin.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Erin asks, tucking her shirt into her skirt.

Abby grimaces. “Nothing, it’s good. Let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

At the ceremony outside the courthouse, they step out of the ECTO-1 to a waiting crowd of people who are thrilled to see them. Erin walks closely behind Holtzmann, following Patty and Abby up the stairs. “Those pants were a good choice, I think they’re your best pair.” Erin says so quietly only the two of them can hear. “They look really good on you.”

“Thanks. You know where else they look good?”

Erin knows the answer, but instead of responding, she turns five different shades of red.

“On your bedroom floor,” Holtz looks over her shoulder with a devilish smirk as they stop to the right of the podium where Erin is left to stew for the rest of the commencement in a flustered state of embarrassment and giddiness. 


	5. Storks Over Manhattan

The camera’s frame shifts around for a moment, the timestamp in the corner blinking ‘2:38.′ The focus blurs and then sharpens on Holtzmann standing in the lab.

“Oof, there we go. Hi baby! It’s your mom. We’re all counting down the days until you get here. Your mama is the most beautiful person on this whole planet right now, even if she doesn’t think so. Speaking of mama, she really misses busting, she’s been on strictly lab duty for like, six months. But we did it to keep you safe! So there’s that.”

Holtzmann pans the camera angle to the corner of the lab, where there’s a glass chamber the size of a walk-in closet in the corner, outfitted with a bouncy seat, a blanket, and a group of toys. “I wanted to show you the lab today, Patty and Abby helped. We made you your own corner! Everything in here is flame resistant and the glass is tempered. Your mama and I really want you to be here with us. We hope you’ll grow up to be curious about everything you see. That’s a rule: question everything. 

“The biggest question around here right now is your name. Mama and I still haven’t picked one yet. She likes Sophie after Sophie Germain, but I’m not completely sold yet. I think you should be Tesla, but your Aunt Patty seems to think you’ll get beat up for that. So the point is, right now we don’t know. But we’ll figure it out when we meet you, and maybe it’s better like that anyway. 

"Have I mentioned how excited we are yet? WE ARE SO EXCITED! I wish you’d get here already. Your mama does too, but I think it’s because you give her heartburn– Oh! Kevin, say something to the baby.”

Kevin comes into the frame looking puzzled. “’S not a baby. That’s a camera. Hi camera!” He preens in its lens, checking his hair and picking at his teeth.

Holtzmann  turns the camera back on herself. “Uh…ignore that. While I’ve got you here, I want to tell you… I guess what I want to say is, you’re gonna grow up in this world with your two parents and aunts who are really smart and accomplished, but if you don’t end up doing the same thing, that’s okay. Whatever you do with your life, all we care about is that you’re happy. Your mama and I, we’re going to make sure you have whatever you need to be happy. I know I don’t always pay attention. I know your mama can get overbearing at times. But, I want you to know that we both love you from the bottom of our hearts. We can’t wait to watch–”

“Holtz- Holtzmann!” 

“Yeah! In the lab! Aunt Abby,” Holtz rolls her eyes as Abby comes into frame. 

“Her water broke!” 

“Her water– Her wa- It’s coming! You’re coming! OH MY GOD, YOU’RE COMING! ABBY! I’ll go get the car-” 

“Forget that, Patty’s on it, grab the suitcases. You ready to be a mom?” 

The camera focus drops. “I’M GONNA BE A MOM? I’M GONNA BE A MOM!” 

“YOU’RE GONNA BE A MOM!” 

“I’M GONNA BE A MOM! Holy shit, I’m gonna be a mom.” 

Abby points to the camera. "The camera’s still rollin’, buddy.”

Holtzmann’s excitement turns into wide-eyed fear. “Oh, cr– DON’T REPEAT THAT! ERIN?! Erin! I’m coming! Don’t have the baby without me! We’re going to see you soon, baby. I love you!”

4:09 am

The camera comes back to life in a dim hospital room. “Hi again–”

“Shhhhhh.”

Holtzmann drops her voice to a whisper. “Hi again. I didn’t get a chance to get you coming into the world on tape. Patty assures me this is a good thing? I’m sure you’ll thank her later. But um. It’s 4 am, and you just got here like, an hour ago. Here you are with mama,” Holtzmann turns the camera onto a sleepy, but happy looking Erin cradling a baby in a yellow blanket.

“You’re perfect in every way,” Erin whispers, kissing the baby’s head.

“Your name is Lise Ada-Marie after Lise Meitner, Ada Lovelace, and Marie Curie. We couldn’t pick just one brilliant woman to name you after, your future is just way too bright to settle on one. Plus, you’re gonna be the cool kid with two hyphens in your name. Hah. We love you so much, Lise. We are smitten, please never change. No wait, maybe get a little bit taller and learn how to talk, I think this partnership will work better if we can come to terms once in a while. Hey, Erin, you want to say anything to Lise?”

“I love you, Lise.” Erin whispers with a sleepy grin.

“I love you, Lise.” Holtzmann echoes. “Sleep tight, baby. We certainly aren’t going to any time soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never written anything like this before and I'm sure it's a mess, but thank you for reading!


	6. The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight

“Food!” Holtzmann called, closing the front door to the firehouse. 

“Did we order from the place in Chinatown?” Erin asked, poking her head downstairs.

“Yep.”

“Did they send Benny?”

“Ah…no. I went for pick up. I thought it’d be quicker.” Holtz comes up the steps. “Grab some plates, let’s eat on the roof.”

Headquarters is typically a late-night operation, but tonight it’s just Erin and Holtzmann holed up in the lab working away. The only break tonight has been for a late dinner of Chinese.

Up on the roof, Erin stares out at the skyline, bright like stars close enough to touch. It’s gotten cooler the way it does when darkness falls in the city, and that’s why it’s her favorite time.

Holtzmann finally joins her, holding a bag of Chinese food with enough in it to  feed fourteen people with room for seconds. “Man, I never get sick of the view from up here.” She gazes out too, and then at Erin, studying her face as she looks out at the city. “We gonna eat? Or just Hemingway it up out here all night?”

“Yeah, no. We can eat. Sorry. I was just thinking about…stuff.” Erin lets a breathy laugh leave her nose.

“I know exactly what you mean, I think a lot about particle physics too. It’s a really kinky subject.”

Erin turns red, smiling into her lap. She doesn’t know how to explain what it is she was really thinking about. She wants to say ‘I was thinking about how you smell after you’ve worked on the car,’ ‘I was thinking about the way your nose scrunches when you laugh. And the look in your eyes when you ignite a welding torch.’ She wants to say ‘I was thinking about how completely crazy the last few years of my life have been, between moving to New York City all by myself, to abandoning a teaching career to hunt ghosts, and meeting the person who taught me so much more about myself than I have learned in over forty years of life on this planet.’ 

She was thinking about how inferior the words ‘I love you’ are when your feelings are too large and those three words too few to accurately describe the sensation in her chest when she thinks about it. Instead she laughs and helps herself to the boxes of fried rice and vegetables, because it’s the only thing she can think to do and occupying her hands keeps her grounded and centered.

Holtzmann eats with her usual enthusiasm; a bite of rice, a second later two of chicken, switching the item on her fork in a manner so erratic it almost seems as though she’s forgotten whatever her fork was just in. There’s no system, just whatever strikes her in the moment. “I think they gave us extra fortune cookies this time." She sorts through boxes until she finds the right one, cracking it apart and pulling the little slip of paper from the inside. "You will receive a romantic surprise," she reads, brows knitted. "Who writes this stuff?" She asks, popping both halves of her cookie in her mouth before handing one to Erin.

Erin, who has yet to finish her real food, rolls her eyes, smiling as she takes the cookie. "Some guy in a factory, probably," she says, breaking the cookie in half. She jumps as a simple, silver engagement ring falls out of it and into her palm. Her eyes are wide in shock and for a moment, she can’t think of any words. "Holtz--” her name comes out in an awe-struck whisper. 

 Holtz is on both knees, her chin perched on her arm at the edge of the table. "Do you like it? If you don’t like it we can trade it out. I should’ve asked--oh god, you hate it, don’t you?” She’s usually not the one to ramble when nervous. Under different circumstances, she’d be very quiet and still. But it took her weeks to figure out how to ask--long, hesitant weeks practicing on Abby, practicing on Patty, pacing at night while Erin was asleep. She sits there chewing the corner of her lip, waiting for Erin to say something. “I’m so--”

Her face is in Erin’s hands, her lips on Erin’s lips and fireworks are exploding in her ears. “Wait,” she pulls herself away. “Are you saying yes? This is a yes, right?”

“Yes, it’s a yes! Oh my god!” Erin throws her arms around Holtzmann’s neck as she stands up completely. They kiss again, and again, laughing delirious giggles as Holtzmann takes Erin’s hands in hers. 

“How long did it take you to plan all of this?” Erin asks.

Holtzmann squints, thinking. “Three years, six days, eleven hours, and forty-one minutes,” she checks her watch. “Sorry, wait. Forty-two.”

Erin laughs again and kisses her.

Later on, in the lab, they keep stealing glances at each other smiling like a couple of kids. Erin looks up from her calculator. "Holtz, three years, six days, eleven hours, and forty two minutes?" she asks.

"Yeah?" Holtzmann clicks the blowtorch off, pushing her mask up.

"That would've been the day we met down to the exact minute," Erin looks from the calculator to Holtz.

"There's no science to love at first sight, if that's what you're insinuating," Holtzmann smirks.

"You said you'd been planning this proposal since--"

"Since the day I met you. Yeah. There were approximately... Thirty-two proposal ideas, and not one single doubt in my mind in regards to the statistical probability of needing to use one of them at some point or another." Holtzmann shrugs.

"Statistical probability, huh?" Erin asks, standing and approaching Holtz's work bench.

"Yeah," the deviance in Holtz's smile returns.

"I love it when you talk math to me."

"What's the statistical probability of finding you naked on the couch if I turn around and close my eyes for 60 seconds?" Holtzmann asks.

"Odds are in your favor," Erin nods.

Holtzmann flips her welding helmet back over her face so Erin won't see her turn bright red as she slowly turns around with her back to the lab. She can't help but wonder how she could ever have gotten so lucky. First, a friend. Second, a family, then third, a home. And now a wife. The feeling of completeness she's spent a lifetime searching for is finally here.

It gives her butterflies inside. 


	7. The Open Road

The sun is cresting over the horizon as Erin sips the worst cup of coffee she’s ever had. She grimaces with each swallow and chases it with a bite of a gas station donut, while Holtzmann devours her third jelly-filled one and leaves a raspberry fingerprint on the steering wheel.

“So, where are we going?” Erin asks for the hundredth time in two days.

“You’ll see when we get there,” Holtz smiles at her, taking the coffee cup from Erin’s hand and drinking a sip for herself. “Nothing says road trip like gas station coffee.”

Erin pulls the map from the glove compartment and squints ahead for signs to determine what route they’re taking when Holtzmann reaches over in one fluid, gentle motion, taking the map away and casting it out the window.

“What are you doing? That’s littering! How do you even know where we’re going? What happens if we get lost?”

“Hey,” she pulls the car over on the side of the road. “This is our honeymoon. Babe. Baby. The goal is to be adventurous. So we’re going to cross one off my bucket list and then we’re going to cross one off yours. We’ll worry about directions when we’re on our way back home. Capisce?”

It takes Erin a minute of being stared down before she gives up. “Fine. But I wish you’d tell me where we’re going.”

“You’ll see when we get there,” Holtz says again with a taunting smirk as they get going once again. 

Erin fusses with the radio for a while before Holtzmann pulls her iPod out of the armrest compartment and offers it to her. They talk about everything from childhood vacations to summer camp to college. All of the little things that make them laugh, until they’re hoarse and tired. When darkness has fallen, Erin dozes in the passenger seat until Holtzmann stops the car and nudges her awake. 

“I’m going to go check us in, I’ll be right back. And then I promise you can sleep as long as you want.”

Erin rubs her eyes and tries to make out her surroundings. They’re out near the desert in the parking lot of a little hole-in-the-wall motel. The sign reads “EARTHLINGS WELCOME  
LITTLE A’LE’INN”

She gets out of the car and looks at the surrounding area--a broad and desolate place seemingly removed from civilization. In the desert night, it’s cold. Erin hugs the MIT sweatshirt tighter around her as Holtz reemerges.

“Okay, our room is right over here.” She pops the door at the back of the hearse and pulls their suitcases out, kicking it closed behind her. 

“Now will you tell me where we are?” Erin asks, sleepy and grumbling.

“Rachel, Nevada. We’re going on the Area 51 tour tomorrow.” Her smile is glowing brighter than the full moon above them. “This place has great reviews, babe. Good food,  _great_ little gift shop. They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.”

“Holtz, this is the middle of nowhere.”

“C’mon, Garfield. Where’s your sense of adventure?” Holtzmann says, using Erin’s least favorite pet name, as she gives her a charismatic grin and drags her by the hand to the room.

It's a dive-y looking little hole of a room with a single full sized bed and requisite quilted polyester duster. The walls are wooden paneling and the carpet looks suspiciously over cleaned, but Holtzmann still bellyflops onto the bed with her arms out wide while Erin tries to wrestle off the comforter.

Finally, she unzips her jeans and crawls under the (thankfully very clean) sheets. Erin tangles their fingers together, sure that Holtz has fallen asleep until she speaks. “Where do you wanna go?”

“What do you mean?” Erin asks.

“Places. What’s on your bucket list?” She peeks one eye open.

“Um. I guess, Hollywood maybe? I don’t know.”

“Hollywood. Okay, where else?”

“Seattle?”

“Ooh! Whole foods capital of the world, let’s do it. And I hear the whale watching is breathtaking. One more.”

“I don’t have anymore,” Erin mumbles, letting her eyes fall closed.

“Okay, well you don’t have to say right now. It can wait.” She watches Erin sleep until her eyes itch with exhaustion and then she falls asleep herself.

* * *

 

Three weeks later, they’ve visited Rachel, Hollywood, Seattle, the Montana Badlands, the Black Hills, Erin’s childhood home, Holtz’s childhood home, and made several pit stops to inquire about local folklore on the trip back to New York. 

None of their clothes are clean anymore and both of them are bronze from afternoons of hiking in the mountains and the woods, but it feels to them like exactly the kind of adventure they’ve been waiting to go on for their entire lives.

A suitcase in the trunk is jam-packed with souvenirs Holtzmann picked for Abby, Patty, Kevin, and herself, while Erin has used up an SD card and a half taking pictures on their phones. 

“I missed the city,” Erin says as they finally start to see the traffic thickening and the buildings grow tall.

“Mmmm and it missed you, my dear,” Holtz says, putting on a signature caricature accent. 

“Thank you,” Erin says after the passing of a few quiet minutes perforated by car horns.

“For what?”

“I don’t think I would’ve had the guts to go if you hadn’t packed the bags and said ‘Get in the damn hearse.’”

“Well, we’re all getting in the damn hearse someday baby, you gotta get over that fear, it’s just a fact of life. Like, you know, you take the good, you take the bad and there you have a ride in a hearse.”

Erin laughs and laces their fingers together. It feels right to have travelled across the country and back just the two of them. But after all they’ve seen, her favorite sight in three weeks has been that of their beloved fire house with their friends out front holding a welcome home sign. 


End file.
